


Safehouses

by EveryDayBella



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angry Steve Rogers, Bottom Steve Rogers, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Civil War AU, M/M, Protective Steve Rogers, Stucky Big Bang 2016, Top Bucky Barnes, all the Steve's, jail breaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 01:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7555123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryDayBella/pseuds/EveryDayBella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1945 Steve Rogers lost the love of his life. In 2014 he discovered that he wasn’t as lost as he seemed. In 2016, after two years of looking and failing to find him, Steve has reluctantly settled back into being Captain America. With Tony and the rest of the world pushing for the Accords Steve is once again finding himself at a crossroads. With sides being taken and lines being drawn Steve isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do, until James Buchanan Barnes is framed for another mass killing. Then things become very simple. Save Bucky and damn the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Run Boy Run

**Run Boy Run**

 

Steve lets Bucky jump out the window first and land on the building across from them. He’s out the window next and has just enough time to hear Sam curse behind him as he falls through the air and lands  rolling. He’s up and running the next second, chasing the blur of his best friend.

 

He takes a moment to look behind them, afraid of the army that's going to be on their tails. It's almost a relief to find no one. Maybe he’s talked Tony into not following them and trusting him for once.

 

Steve knew that was too good to be true. Bucky ducked into a tunnel, right in the path of a herd of cars. Steve’s heart is in his throat, even though he’s pretty sure that Bucky could outrun a car.

 

Then their bad situation becomes worse. Steve sees the dark blur come from their left and cuts in between him and Bucky. The man in the dark suit separates them in one quick sweep. To his surprise the Panther is faster than he is and is even gaining on Bucky.

 

With his heart in throat, Steve casts out for a way to keep the inevitable from happening. If Bucky can’t out run the Black Panther then he and the Panther have to be separated. Unfortunately, they’re surrounded by bystanders, which he also knows was Bucky’s plan. It makes it less likely that they’ll use deadly force against him. It also means that Steve’s options to protect him have been hindered.

 

He doesn’t want to hurt the stranger any more than he would want to hurt Tony. They’re just doing what they think is best but they don’t know the full story. They didn’t see Bucky’s eyes when the programing broke on the helicarrier. They couldn’t see past the monster Hydra had built in the man left scared on the inside. Steve could and Steve wasn’t going to fail him again.

 

Black Panther makes it to Bucky just a few seconds later. He doesn’t have the element of surprise like he probably wanted as Bucky spins around at the last minute to catch Panther’s first blow with his metal arm. Steve’s heart is racing as he tries to catch up. For the moment, all he can do is watch them fight.

 

To start, he's not too worried. Bucky is more than able to take care of himself. He even gets the upper hand early on, using the bionics on his arm to surprise Black Panther with his strength. For just a moment, Steve thinks everything is going to be okay, at least until he can get there and help.

 

Then everything goes to hell. T’Challa goes for Bucky’s knees, knocking the assassin off his feet and the air from his lungs. Bucky’s fast reactions save him from the first blow, but not the next two.

 

Steve is forced to watch with horror settling into his bones, as Bucky is pinned to his back with T’challa over him. It's strange and terrible watching the Winter Soldier be overpowered. Bucky can barely hold T’Challa back, and Steve doesn’t trust him not to go for the easy kill.

 

Its rage, pure and all consuming, that powers Steve the last few yards as fast as he can. It’s anger and the thought that he can’t fail Bucky again that sends him and the shield crashing into T’Challa, throwing him off Bucky and into the concrete. There’s a dull ache on Steve’s right side where he lands on top of the shield, but he’s still up in an instant looking frantically for Bucky.

 

He has just enough time to note that he’s alright and back on his feet before they’re both under attack again. T’challa is fast and stronger than Steve would have expected. They waste even more precious time fighting, yet this feels better. He and Bucky still move with the same instinct. They work together like no time has passed, like they’re still kids fighting alley brawls. If the situation weren't so dire, Steve would be smiling in relief.

 

He and Bucky have still got it.

 

They get their chance a few moments later while Bucky distracts T’Challa, and Steve pulls the shield from his back and launches it toward the dark shape of the African king. He feels bad when it takes him by surprise in the back. Steve does make sure that he rolls clear of the cars, and then catches the shield to keep racing after Bucky.

 

He’s just starting to think that they’re gonna make it. There’s no one left close enough who can chase them down. They can reach the end of the tunnel, disappear into the city, and no one would be able to find them. They can leave all this behind. Steve can make sure Sam finds the shield and they can just disappear. Change their names. They can be someone else.

 

It’s too late, and Steve thinks it might have been too late from the beginning. He barely catches up to Bucky before they realize they’ve run right into a trap. The end of the tunnel is barricaded with cars, tape, wood, and lights. Anyone of those wouldn’t have been enough to hold two super soldiers. They could have just kept running. What pulls Steve up short is two rows of black armoured SWAT teams, each with the barrel of their guns pointed right at him and Bucky. One wrong move here and they’ll be so full of lead that even the serum couldn’t keep them alive.

 

Panicked and uncertain what Bucky will do with this new threat, he holds out his hand to him, silently begging him to stop. To his surprise, Bucky stands still, allowing Steve to slide in front of him with the shield between them and danger. Steve takes a deep breath and hopes against hope that there’s a way out of this that doesn’t end with them both dead or captured.

 

“Captain Rogers,” the man in front calls outs, his voice filled the confidence of superior numbers. “By the order of Secretary of State Ross, you are to surrender The Winter Soldier to us. When you do this, you’ll be free to go.”

 

“His name is James Barnes.” Steve refuses to let Bucky be any more dehumanized than he’d already been. “And he’s not going anywhere without me.”

 

“Codename Winter Soldier is to be taken into government custody. If this doesn’t happen peacefully then we have been given shoot to kill orders of anyone trying to help him.”

 

Steve wants nothing more than to argue with him. The brightness of the sunny day outside is leaking in through the entrance in front of them. Between here and, however, is a bristling array of guns and body armour. So Steve starts counting, planning an escape route that will get them injured the least and hurt the fewest number of them.

 

He’s certain there is a way, and he’s not going to give up, not until Bucky is safe and not in danger of crimes he didn’t commit.

 

Then there’s a soft touch to his arm, and all the guns shift to his left. Bucky’s fingers are resting on his arm, feather light and barely felt through Steve’s suit. When he turns, Bucky’s eyes are dark pools of anguish that only stokes the flames in Steve’s gut higher.

 

“Steve, this is stupid,” Bucky’s voice shatters him all over again. “If we fight, we’re not making it out of this alive and I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me.”

 

“I’m not letting you be captured again.”

 

“What’s your other option, pal? I surrender or you die. I know exactly which choice I’m making.”

 

Before Steve can say his name, much less react enough to stop him, Bucky steps around him with both hands in the air. “I surrender. Come and get me.”

 

They move fast surrounding him and forcing his face into the concrete with a knee in the small of his back. Steve growls, seeing red, planning to throw them all off if he has to. Bucky’s glare stops him, but does nothing to lessen the rage swimming through his veins. This is exactly what he was afraid of, of someone else reducing Bucky to a big red danger sign. He grits his teeth and balls his fist, trying to respect the choice.

 

There’s no rights read as they wrap his wrists in plastic ties that look to be pulled to tight. “What In the bag?” the commander asks, pointing to the grey backpack Steve has seen Bucky carry with him everywhere.

 

It's not until they try to take it from him that he cracks. His eyes go from defiant to lost in the span of a heartbeat. Steve can see him began to tremble, his breath coming in great gulps as panic sets in. “No. No, please,” the begging sets Steve’s teeth on edge though it does nothing to others. “Please, it's nothing. Just let me keep it, please.”

 

There’s lots of shouting, demanding to know what's in it, and what he was planning to do. All it does is set Bucky even more on edge. Steve pushes his way forward and bodily shoves everyone else out of Bucky’s personal space.

 

“Bucky, it's going to be okay.” The lie feels off as soon as it passes his lips, but it seems to help ground Bucky. “It’s gonna be alright, I promise. I’m gonna find you wherever they take you and then I’m get you out. You understand me?”

 

Bucky nods slowly, and Steve knows he hasn’t fixed whatever is broken yet. “It’s the backpack, isn’t? It’s important?” Bucky nods slowly, his eyes disastrously close to tears. It’s really important then. “Will you let me take it? I won’t look, I promise. I’ll just keep it safe. Trust me?”

 

It takes a moment, and Steve doesn’t try to rush him, before Bucky nods. “Okay. Okay. I trust you.”

 

Slowly, Steve unsnaps the buckle across his chest, then breaks the plastic tie across his wrists. When he has the surprisingly heavy bag on his shoulder, he takes Bucky’s real hand and inspects the skin that’s already broken.

 

He turns a sharp burning glare on the commander that would have scared Ultron himself. “You find some real handcuffs and you do it now and if I see anymore marks on him, then it's me you’re going to be dealing with. Do I make myself clear?”

 

Bucky’s fingers curl into his own, clinging as he puts himself back together.

 

“Captain Rogers, we’re going to need the bag, too.”

 

“Over my dead fucking body.” Steve spits. “You want to shoot Captain America go ahead, but I don’t think you have the guts.”

 

The commander shuts his trap and turns back to his own soldiers. When Steve turns back to Bucky he’s marginally calmer and takes a willing step closer to Steve till the small space between them seems to crackle and spark with a electricty. Even here, with Bucky about to be arrested and Steve threatening a war, they feel alone, small and somehow sweet. They’re sharing air, foreheads brushing together as they lean in.

 

It strikes Steve that they would never have done this public before, but he also doesn’t give a fuck. Not anymore. Everyone else can think what they want to think.

 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Bucky orders. “I mean it, Steve. Don’t. I know what’s going on and trust me, you’re better off just keeping your head down and going with the flow.”

 

“Since when have I ever done that?” Steve is going for disarming, but it's not fooling Bucky. “I’m just gonna do what I should have done all along.”

 

Before Bucky can reply, the commander is back with the requested handcuffs. Steve, unwillingly and with heavy foot, steps back and lets them restain Bucky. This time there’s no panic, just stone cold iron in Bucky’s eyes.

 

“I’m gonna find you.” Steve vows one last time as Bucky is herded into a metal van and driven away. With one last glare at the small army, Steve snaps his shield back into place on and moves away. There’s one person he knows who will have the information he needs and for the first time in months, he’s not dreading seeing him.

 

This conversation was long past due.


	2. Fighting With Tony

**Fighting with Tony**

 

It was to everyone's credit that they stayed out of Captain Rogers way. The rumors were already flying. Supposedly, they had captured the infamous Winter Soldier and taken to him to one of their secret prisons. No one knew exactly which one. 

 

Anyone who was doubting the rumour stopped as soon Steve himself came storming into the building. Captain America’s face is a sea of rage. It's terrifying, the intensity with which he marched down the halls. His eyes, which were normally warm and welcoming, were cold and hard. The heavy thud of his boots down pristine hallways had everyone scurrying to get out of his way. 

 

This is a side of the Captain they had never known existed, much less experienced. This isn’t the humble, upstanding, original Avenger with a gee shucks, ma’am smile. This is the soldier, the man who had been into battle time and time again and always came out scarred. 

 

Steve paid very little attention to the effect he was having on everyone else. He’s still thrumming with adrenaline and too worried about Bucky to spare any attention for anything else. If he stopped, if he took a moment to breath, and think and feel, he’s afraid he will never get up again. So he uses the anger and rage as fuel to propel him forward, and god help whoever got in his way. He didn’t even feel guilty about that. It’s just a simple truth. 

 

At his own office, he plants his foot in the door and feels, the satisfying crunch as wood and plaster give way. Inside everything is just as he’d left it, what feels like ages ago, but had only been a matter of days. It seemed strange that this place had been inviting and now it’s just cold. All he could feel was the betrayal that had exposed the emptiness in the building. Like dry kindling, it's just making Steve want to fight all the more. 

 

It’s with surprising gentleness that he places the tattered backpack on the desk. The way he cares for it, one would have thought that it held a great treasure and maybe it did. Steve had no idea, only that Bucky hadn’t shown any real panic until they were trying to take it away from him. That is all the reason that Steve needed to treat it with care. 

 

The same can’t be said of his floor. There’s a loud clang as Steve’s shield pulverizes tile, leaving behind the same smashed bits that a sledgehammer would. Steve drops to his knees to clear away the debris, not reacting when sharp edges cut into the tips of his fingers. Its an annoyance as he pulls the metal box from its hiding place beneath the floor. This time, rather than smashing through it, he takes the time to unlock the box and carefully extract its contents. 

 

He knows as his fingers close around the manilla folder that the chill spreading up his arm is completely in his head, that paper cannot make him feel cold, but it’s there all the same. The russian lettering on the cover is familiar from nights spent pouring over its contents. He’s fairly certain that some of the stains on the cover are his own tears, but he pushes the thought to the side. He doesn’t have time to get emotional over this. This is just his last resort to hopefully get it through some peoples thick skulls that Bucky isn’t what they were saying.

 

The sound of rubber sliding against the tile pieces sparks alarm through Steve’s mind. He spins, crouched, and pulls the shield in front of him. Every muscle is tensed and prepared to launch himself at the first sign of his enemy. 

 

Sam holds up his hands, placating, lips pinched into a thin line. Steve sighs and loosens his tense muscles as much as he can. It doesn’t stop his eyes from darting rapidly, looking for the next attack while his fist tightens around the folder still in his hand. 

 

“Sorry.” Sam apologizes, not bothering to hide the worry reflecting in his eyes. “I should have announced myself.”

 

“It’s nothing.” Steve brushes him off. He doesn’t have time to worry about what Sam is thinking of him. He doesn’t have time for anything. Every second that slips through his fingers, he can feel Bucky getting farther and farther away.

 

Sam, at least, knows this isn’t the time. They are technically in enemy territory and the government isn’t just going to let them get away with that for long. “You’re not gonna have to go far. Tony’s here. Got back about the same time we did.”

 

“Is Ross with him?” Steve can’t say which answer he wants more. Ross complicates matters. He always knows which of Tony’s buttons to push, but on the other hand Steve wouldn’t mind planting his fist in the assholes face. 

 

“Not yet, but Natasha is between Tony and you.”

 

“I'm not worried about Nat.” It's not a complete lie. Steve is fairly certain that Natasha will let him past, he just doesn’t know if she’ll back him up or not. There’s no telling with her. 

 

“We’re still gonna need backup.”

 

“I know.” Steve isn’t sure where that’s going to come from, but he has more important things to think about for the moment. 

 

His fingers are, once again, gentle and reverent when they wrap around the backpacks straps. “I need you to do me a favor, Sam.”

 

Sam snorts, and if the situation where any less tense, Steve would laugh too. One day he will stop asking favors of Sam. “I need you take this. Don’t let anyone have it.”

 

“Do we even know what’s in here?” Sam swings the bag over his shoulder with the same carefulness Steve did. That’s why Steve liked him. 

 

“I have no idea, but it's important to him and I’m going to treat it that way.” Steve wills away the lump trying to develop in his throat. Maybe later he will have time to deal with the mess of emotions trying to distract him, but that time is not right now. He adjusts his grip on the shield and the KGB file. It feels like every other battle he’s walked into. “Ready?”

 

“I follow you, Cap.”

 

Steve knows he should be thanking Sam, or at least giving some kind of acknowledgement, but instead he’s marching out the door. He does have to look to know Sam is with him. It’s a good feeling. One of the few that Steve has got at the moment. 

 

Sure enough, no one stops them until they’re in the hallway of Tony’s office and Natasha is waiting on them. Normally, Steve would notice how uncomfortable she looked. He would realize that she hadn’t wanted what this lead too anymore than he had. He’s too far gone, however, and fixes her with a hard level glare. “Get out of my way.”

 

“Steve, you’re just going to make this worse.”

 

“Move, Natasha.” The last thing he wants today is fight his friend but he will. That choice had already been made. He doesn’t even really care if she’s right anymore. This is what he’s doing and that’s that. 

 

There’s a heartbeat, a moment, where he thinks she’s going to argue, but she sighs, her shoulders dropping in defeat, and Steve really hopes he never has to see that again. At the same time, she’s stepping to the side and Steve doesn’t pause.  He let’s his feet carry him forward, until he’s forcing Tony’s door open.

 

Tony is waiting on him. If he’s thrilled about capturing the infamous Winter Soldier then it at least isn’t showing. It doesn’t do anything to cool Steve’s temperature, but it at least didn't get worse. 

 

“Where is he?” Steve barks, not noticing that Sam and Natasha have followed in after him as well. “And don’t give me any bullshit.”

 

“I can’t tell you that, Steve.” Tony sighs.

 

“Why the hell not?”

 

“Because you’ll break him out.”

 

“You’re damn right I will.” Steve’s voice goes up an octave and now he’s certain that anyone outside the room would hear him too. “I shouldn't have let you and your allies take him to begin with.”

 

Something like discomfort crosses Tony’s face, but the answering sympathy never crosses Steve’s. “Steve, he’s not your Bucky anymore, if he ever was. He’s a murderer.”

 

“Do not.” Steve feels like he’s just been punched again, like when Rumlow used almost the same words to describe Bucky. More than anything he once again feels like he’s the only thing standing between Bucky and the rest of the world who wants his head on a pike. Steve won’t let that happen. “Don’t finish that sentence, Tony.”

 

Tony, responding to some violence that Steve has forgotten to control, holds his hands up, defenseless. Not that Steve believes that for a second. “Okay, I won’t, but you saw what he did.”

 

“I saw what they wanted us to see, which is always what they did with the Winter Soldier. The government just wants someone to pay.”

 

“Of course they want someone to pay, Steve. What else do you think they can do?”

 

Steve laughs and it sounds and feels tired. He braces his hands against the desk, shaking his head, and wishing once again that they never taken him out of the ice. “The sad thing is, Tony, I don’t expect anything else now. They couldn’t make me go along with it, so they’re going after him.”

 

“This was coming whether you signed the Accords or not. He’s been implicated in two dozen incidents in the last fifty years and those are just the ones we know about.”

 

“Hydra brainwashed him. He can’t be held responsible.”

 

“There’s no proof of that, Steve. Hydra wasn’t great at keeping files.”

 

“Fuck, proof. It doesn’t mean that it didn’t happen. You saw the machine at the base in Berlin we took down. There wasn’t any hiding what that thing was used for and who they used it on.”

 

Tony opens his mouth, no doubt to argue some fine point of international law and psychology that could be used to pin everything on Bucky. Steve isn’t going to listen it, and just keeps talking right on over him. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Stark. I’ve gotten enough of it from Ross.”

 

“He’s just trying to do what he thinks is best and he’s not wrong. We cause damage wherever we go.”

 

“Really? The man who chased one of our friends across the globe is just doing what he thinks its best and I should trust him? Where is Bruce by the way, Tony?”

 

It’s the most visible reaction Steve thinks he has ever gotten out of Tony. The genius blanches, turning white as a sheet while his dark eyes take on a new edge. If Steve had known that was all it took, he would have brought up Bruce a long time ago. “That’s not fair, Steve.”

 

“I don’t care.” Steve snarls back. “Look, you want proof? Hydra might have been bad at keeping records, but the KGB sure as hell wasn’t.” 

 

He slams the file down on the desk with a dull thud that reverberates through the room. A few pages shuffle out with the force, including a copy of a picture of Bucky from 1943. He is all dressed up in his uniform, looking exactly like he had when he’d dragged Steve to the Stark Expo on a double date. He’s grinning and cocky, like he hadn’t already seen more horror than he should have, much less the horror that was waiting on him. Steve has no idea how the KBG had gotten their hands on that picture, but he’d often fantasised, in his darker moments, about finding out just so he could make them pay. Even now it was making the bile rise up his throat. He glared at Tony instead, though dimly aware of a new sense of unease to his right. 

 

Tony stares wide eyed at the file, apparently reluctant to touch it. “Where did you get that?”

 

Steve almost exposes Natasha, it isn’t like Tony can’t figure it out on his own, but Steve also isn’t that far gone. He and Natasha might be in a difference of opinion at the moment, but he isn’t just going to throw her under the bus. “It doesn’t matter. What does matter it that it's legitimate and I promise you, what’s in that file isn’t even a quarter of what Hydra did to him.”

 

Tony meets his gaze for a moment, whether in challenge or assessment Steve couldn’t say. He just glares back all calm and steady, daring Tony to fight him on it. There’s a new sense of rush and unease seeping through Steve’s bones. A clock's ticking hands reminding him that they didn’t have time for this. The longer they have Bucky the deeper they can bury him and the more time it takes for something to go wrong. Steve doesn’t want Bucky with them any longer than he has to be. All he has to do is make Tony see reason, which is usually harder than it sounds. 

 

Finally, Tony opens the file, flipping through the pages. Steve knows every word that he will read, every picture, every note and number and order he will see. Steve memorized them a long time ago and knows that even just a brief perusal with tell you everything that you need to know. A transfer from Hydra command to Department X told in detail. Extreme mental and physical exhaustion, and then sleep deprivation. Water boarding, electro shock, mental manipulation, and good old fashioned beatings. The kill orders are all there, one after the other, like a grisly hall of fame for assassins, but  alongside them are the things they had to do to their “asset” to make it happen. The complete removal of self until Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes didn’t exist any more. He was just a machine to be pointed and used, and then put back in stasis until the next time he was needed. 

 

Even Tony turns green reading it, flipping through pages like a morbid dairy. Any other day and Steve would feel a pang of sympathy. He can’t imagine Tony isn’t having flashbacks of his own to a cave in Afghanistan. This is exact moment, Steve is out of sympathy and respect. He might regret that later in the day or in a week's time, but in the here and now he, has one thing on his mind and that’s saving Bucky like he couldn’t before. 

 

When Tony slams the file shut, he looks shaken and in that at least he and Steve can understand each other. The limits of human depravity seem so much deeper after reading that. It's not something you come back from. It colors every perception you have from that moment forward. Steve’s almost sorry he’s inflicted it on Tony. Objectively, he doesn’t deserve it. 

 

“Tell me where he is, Tony.” 

 

“He’s still a danger.” Comes Tony’s half formed argument that even he doesn’t sound like he believes. Yes, Bucky is dangerous, but far more dangerous in the wrong person's hands. 

 

“We could transfer him here,” Natasha’s suggests, like it's not just as bad. Like that doesn’t make Steve blood still boil. “We could keep an eye on him and you’d be here to make sure nothing happened.”

 

“You think Clint would have been okay with SHIELD locking you up like an animal knowing what we know now?” It's a cruel thing to say and Steve knows it as the words leave his mouth. He can’t deny that he’s been wanting to say them for a while now. 

 

Natasha’s face goes blank and perfectly unreadable. “I was dangerous and so is he. At least this way you can be sure nothing is happening to him.”

 

Steve is going to argue back, but he’s interrupted by his wingman. “When are you going to stop playing both sides?” Sam demands, arms crossed over his chest and glaring at Natasha. A strange sort of relief floods through Steve when he remembers he’s not alone in this. He’s got backup and he wouldn’t trade this backup for all the armies in the world. 

 

He lets Sam and Nat duke it out and braces his arms against the desk, leaning over and into Tony’s personal space. Tony is still gazing at the file like he doesn’t quite believe it's real. Steve knows the feeling, has sat where Tony is now and struggled with it. Rather than being intimidating, Steve lets his armour crack, lets all the pain, sorrow, anger, and fear he’s feeling show on his face. He gifts Tony a brief look inside at the love Steve doesn’t know what to do with, for a man who may or may not exist anymore.

 

“Take all that shit you’re feeling,” Steve says softly, voice too thick and low for the others to hear them. “And imagine its Rhodey or Pepper that it happened to and tell me you wouldn’t have made the same choices I have.”

 

Tony jerks like Steve slapped him. Tony holds his gaze for a moment and Steve doesn’t really care what he finds there. Just so long as Tony will help him. 

 

Finally, he sighs and leans back in his chair with defeat. “There’s a cloaked facility in the Hudson called The Raft. SHIELD was working it, before, well, before. It's designed to hold super powered criminals. It is not a nice place, and that's where they took the Winter Soldier.”

 

“Figures you guys have a super powered prison,” Sam says unkindly, shifting focus from Natasha to Tony. “Did you read any of them their rights or did you just toss them in there with nothing? What about a trial or does that mean nothing to you?”

 

Tony shifts uncomfortably and avoids their gaze. “Cordance and access codes since I have a feeling that you’re about to lock me out of everything.”

 

“It’s a good guess.” Tony scribbles the codes on the a post it note which Steve tucks away carefully. “You know what you’re doing? Don’t you, Cap?” 

 

Steve nods. Of course he knows what he’s doing. He’s already done it. They could pin treason charges on him just for trying to help Bucky get away. Breaking him out of a beyond maximum security prison will just the thing Ross wants him to do. It doesn’t stop him, though. He’s already sacrificed far too much for his country. It's time to do what he should have done in the first place and given everything for the best friend he ever had. If Tony Stark can’t understand that then that’s just too bad.

 

“I didn’t mean for it to come to this.” Tony says softly, the edge of the plea in his voice. 

 

“You might not believe this, but I didn’t either.” Steve is certain that he’s not lying. They both tried to keep this from happening, but here they are now and it feels final. “Good luck, Tony.”

 

“Good luck, Cap.”

 

Just like always, Sam is at Steve’s side as he leaves the office behind. Already he’s working out in his mind how to break into a super-max and feeling out of his depth. 

 

As if reading his mind, Sam tell him, “We’re gonna need help.”

 

“Do you think Scott would be willing to help?”

 

“I don’t know. I think he was kinda excited about getting to be an Avenger. And speaking of Avengers.”

 

Waiting for them by the door out of the facility is a deep stretch of red. She’d poised, deceptively casual as she waits for them, and unmistakably deadly. Steve tries to not let it show, but he has no idea what to expect of her. The shield is at least a comforting weight on his arm and he’d already decided that no one was going to take it from him again. 

 

“Wanda.” He says, testing the waters.

 

“Captain, I trust you got what we needed out of Stark.” 

 

“We?” Sam pipes up, more smug than surprised. 

 

“If they willing to go after someone as innocent as your friend, then they could do the same to me. I have already been a prisoner once. I will not be one again.”

 

Steve doesn't have it in him to argue with her. She knows as well as he does what they’re starting, and if she wants to wade into with him then that’s her decision. He won’t fight her on it. 

 

The three of them march out of the building without looking back.


	3. The Raft

**The Raft**

  
  


“Well, if that’s not the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.” Clint mutters as he studies the invisible prison through his heat seeking binoculars. “I mean, it makes sense that they wouldn’t keep this tec just for the helicarriers, but it's still crazy.”

 

“It’s something.” Steve mutters back, biting back every ounce of righteous fury. An invisible, unregistered prison floating in the middle of highly populated New York. It was a recipe for disaster waiting to happen.  “Any sign of Scott?”

 

“I got nothing.” Clint slide back down sea wall to crouch next Steve, Sam, and Wanda, hidden in the dark for the moment. “Bastard is too small. I did see a couple openings that I can hit though.”

 

“Not until we hear back from Scott. I’d like to have some idea what we’re going to walk into.”

 

It had been twenty-four hours since they had walked out of the avengers facility and they were finally almost ready to get Bucky. Steve had struggled with patience, with fighting the urge to just go rushing in. He knew they needed to think this through, that they  needed strategy and help. With no one on the inside, it had taken a while to get any real news. 

 

For starters, they had to get Scott to agree to help them. That had taken a while since he wasn’t too keen on restarting his criminal career or breaking an accused mass murder out of jail. Steve isn't sure what finally convinced him, but Scott had agreed to help them break Bucky out. Steve doesn’t know what that meant for when Tony inevitably came after them, but he isn’t worried about that part yet. It would come in its own time. For now, he is more worried about Bucky.

 

Then they’d heard from Clint saying that he wanted to join them. To say that Steve was surprised would have been an understatement. He’d always expected Clint to follow Nat, or at least remain neutral for her sake. Apparently, the archer wasn’t too keen on the idea of blaming everything that had gone wrong in the last half century on someone who had been brainwashed. That at least, made sense to Steve, remembering that Clint had been blamed for the things he did while under Loki’s control. That’s why Steve had decided to trust him, even though Sam is still holding out. 

 

They’re still just five up against a whole prison of guards, but Steve will take their odds. 

 

He’s starting to get worried about Scott. He’d left more than hour before, to try to get inside the The Raft unseen and they haven’t heard from him sense. Steve ‘s trying his best to remain calm and collected like the leader he’s supposed to be, but he’s finding it hard not fidget anyway. Now that they’re this close, Steve just wants it done. He wants Bucky free again where Steve can see him with his own two eyes. That’s all that he cares about at that point in time. 

 

Sam shoots him a look, a reminder to calm down and breathe. Steve does his best, but still feels completely inadequate. The breather before the mission is always the hard part. That was the part where you had to hold everything together in the anticipation of what was coming. There’s always something the air that keeps you from fully relaxing and it’s the worst when there’s something personal on the line and this, objectively, is too personal.

 

The only warning that they have is a slight quiver in the air before there’s a shape growing right in front of them. Steve doesn’t think he will ever get used to seeing a full grown man spontaneously appear from the ground. It’s more than a little unsettling even before you add in the ants. 

 

“I’ve got good news and bad news.” Scott explains as he takes his helmet off. “Which do you want first?”

 

“Bad.” Clint jumps in. “always take the bad first. Then whatever comes after isn’t so, well, bad.”

 

“Can we not say bad again for a while? I think my head hurts.” Sam groans. 

 

“Scott,” Steve sounds less amused and more annoyed. It snaps the rest of them back to the issue at hand. “What did you find?”

 

Everyone hears the unspoken “him” in Steve’s words. 

 

“It’s about like every other prison I’ve ever been in only, you know, super max. Lots of guards, lots of secrecy. The thing that worries me is there's no easy way out.”

 

“We can worry about an escape route in a minute.” Steve purposely ignores the others incredulous glares and keeps going. “How do we get in?”

 

“That’s the easy part.” Scott details how he and the ants will sneak back in and take out the computer alarms systems while everyone else got in the old fashioned way--through the front door. Clint will remain up top to keep the parameter clear while Sam, Steve, and Wanda ventured inside. 

 

“Where do we go from there?” Sam asks, after Steve seems a little lost. Once again Steve is more than thankful for his best friend, but there's guilt to go along with it, because he’s drug Sam into this hell hole with them. 

 

“They’re holding him on one of the deepest levels that’s got its own security system. I can take care of the system, but you’ll have to fight your way there. Inside you’re gonna find a big glass cell. Though I’m guessing it's not glass since that would be to easy to break through.”

 

“SHIELD has a super thick glass that even Thor had trouble breaking through.” Clint supplies. “My guess is they’re using that.”

 

“They’re keeping him in a glass cell.” Steve’s voice is toneless, but his blood is boiling. The only thing he can think of is watching Loki pace in his own glass cell and someone has the audacity to compare Bucky to a mass murder who didn’t give a damn who he hurt. 

 

It's only Sam’s restraining hand on his shoulder that keeps him from giving into the urge to rip the whole world to shreds. 

 

Scott, explains, in detail, the cell he had found Bucky in. To his relief, it sounds like the engineers had tried to be clever and forgotten one very important thing. Vibranium could break through next to everything. 

 

“You’re just going to smash the cell with your shield?” Steve can’t decide if Scott is worried or amazed. “Is that going to work?”

 

“It's worked before.”

 

“I thought you said that you’d never broken anyone out of prison before?”

 

Steve shrugs and for just a moment something light slips through him. A reminder of the Commandos and a warm burst of nostalgia that brings a rare smile to his face.”Sure I have. Just never in this century.”

 

They talk logistics, and Scott explains as best he can the shortest way to the cell. Anticipation is humming through him. They’re so close Steve can almost touch it. In just a few hours, less hopefully, he’ll be able to get Bucky out of there and to a safe house. They  can figure out their next move together. Steve almost doesn’t dare to hope. After all, that always backfires on him. 

 

“Okay, once we get Bucky out of the cell, how do we get out of there?” Sam asks.

 

“I have an idea, but there’s a catch.”

 

“What’s the catch?” Steve asks, wishing he were surprised. 

 

“How well can you guys swim?”

  
  


Walking across the deck of The Raft is unsettling. Steve can’t see the surface he’s walking on, just the dark mass of the Hudson a mile and a half below him. In front of him, Clint walks slowly, bow half pulled and arrow notched, waiting for the moment when it will lossed. Scott should have already been inside while Wanda and Sam follow him. So far, they haven’t met any resistance, but Steve is certain that’s about to change. 

 

Sure enough, he takes just a few more steps and his view is drowned out by light. There’s a pop as flood lights come on, signling them out and streeping them of thier sight in the process. It’s a command tactic and Steve is already preparing a work around it. 

 

“You are trespassing on US Government property,” a disembodied voice booms into the night. “Drop your weapons and raise your hands and you won’t be hurt.”

 

Steve has no intention of surrendering. He doesn’t have to worry about getting inside, Scott’s already done that for them. At the moment Steve is more interested in the making a statement. Since his enhanced eyes have adjusted faster than his comrades, he knows just how to do it. 

 

Before the voice can ask again, Steve pulls his arm back and releases the shield, watching the long arch as it glides through the air and smashes into the flood light. They’re drowned back into night as Steve steals his shield from the  air. 

 

“I sure hope Scott’s ready to go.” Clint mutters, unimpressed. “We’re out in the open here.”

 

He’s barely stopped talking before there’s a buzz along the metal they were standing on. A hatch to the left opens up, revealing light from inside. After that, there’s a blur as guards rush out, Clint’s arrows fly, there’s a red flash of Wanda’s magic. It takes only minutes to clear the deck, but that’s just the first step. 

 

Clint couches next to the hatch and offers his arm to Wanda to help her crawl down. Sam follows, leaving Steve last.

 

“I’ll keep everything clear and meet you guys back upstate.” Clint says, a subtle reminder for Steve to follow the plan they had already laid out. Clint will stay up here to make sure no one follows them down, or to give them a warning if he can’t hold them back. They’ll meet up at one Clint’s safehouses in upstate New York. 

 

Steve pauses for just a second and knows he should say something. It is, after all, because of him that all his friends are now in trouble. That at least deserves a little thanks. For the moment, however, he can’t make his mind think. He can’t make his thoughts go along the lines of making sure his other friends know that he appreciates this so much. Clint gets a nod, and then he’s swiftly going down the hatch into the bowels of the hidden prison. 

 

With their surprise already blown, it's a matter of fighting through each hallway and corridor. Steve, Sam and Wanda remain grouped as close they dare, Steve up front with the shield providing the best defence. 

 

The inside of The Raft turns out to be a tangle of layers and unmarked hallways. Without Scott’s instructions from earlier, they’d be quickly lost in the sea of soldiers and twisting pathways. Even now, Scott is helping by lighting the right corridors, guiding them through. It’s on level seven that their opposition drops significantly and they push through within minutes. On level eight, they meet no resistance. 

 

They walk into a deserted hallway, silent and lit by a deep red glow. The doors lining the way are heavy reinforced steel without windows. Steve can already hear Sam mumbling about prisoners’ rights, but Steve is a bit too focused on their end goal to reciprocate. The pin drop silence choking the air around them cause Wanda and Sam to step closer, forming a wall behind him. They can’t see around corners and their shadows dance along the tinted walls disjointedly. Steve can feel his heart hammering in his chest but ignores it, instead focusing on where his feet are stepping, keeping an eye out for an hidden traps.    
  


“Did we know who else they are holding here?” Wanda asks, her thickly accented voice adding the feeling of discontent.    
  


“We couldn’t find anything on it.” Sam answers so that Steve doesn’t have too. “Ross’ cronies buried it pretty deep. I hate to say it, but if it wasn’t for Tony, we wouldn’t even know this place existed.”   
  


“If it wasn’t for Stark, we wouldn’t be in this mess at all,” Wanda retorts.    
  


Steve wants to refute her and explain that this isn’t Tony. It’s Ross preying on Tony’s emotions. Just a few days ago, he would have argued with her for the sake for his friend, but in this cold, isolated prison—a floor up from his best friend that he’s lost too many times already—Steve doesn’t have it in him. He just doesn’t. Sure, Tony had given them the information they needed to get here, but Steve had still had to nearly punch it out of him.    
  


“Do you think,” Wanda whispers in a voice so low that Steve isn’t sure he’s supposed to hear it. “they would have put me here, too?”

 

The realization shocks Steve down to his core, this subtle reminder that this war they’ve started isn’t just personal to him. Steve swallows heavily and moves forward. She knew the answer.    
  


At the end of the hallway, they reach a cherry red sign that reads, “Danger - No Unauthorized Access Beyond this Point.” It takes considerable effort to not rip the thing from the metal. Bucky isn’t the danger in this hellhole.   
  


“I imagine this is what Scott was telling us about.” Sam cuts in, approaching the sign and fingering the trap door at the bottom. “Ready?”   
  


Steve nods without hesitation, curling his shield closer, and Sam yanks the door open. Neon bright lights and a loud wailing siren drowns them as Steve jumps on the ladder and slides down. Bullets whiz past him before his feet hit the metal ground and his shield is out of his hand, hitting a guard’s neck before bouncing back. When he doesn’t get up there’s more to take on. The cramped hallway barely has room to move in and they’re at the disadvantage since the three of them of are now backed into a corner. 

 

So, it's a surprise to them when the shield hits the decking with a hollow clang. Captain America’s hands are in the air surrendering like he never has. The guards looks sceptical, but as Sam drops his guns and Wanda’s magic flutters out they seem to grow a little bolder. There’s almost a hint of glee about them as the three Avengers are snapped into specialty “cape cuffs” and marched down the corridor. Steve makes sure to count the corners since they haven’t been blindfolded. An oversight, he’s sure.

 

Finally, they’re forced into a room that’s the biggest Steve has yet seen in the vessel. There’s enough room for a few tables and chairs to all be spread out comfortably. They’re not alone either. Steve counts three in military uniforms, all of them high ranking, and a handful of men in suits with a few face he recognizes from the tv. If Ross is surprised when the three of them walk in handcuffs, then he doesn’t show it and Steve doesn’t look for long.

 

The highlight of the room is a glass and vibranium cell, just big enough for one person. Bucky’s arms are pinned in front of him between two heavy pieces of mecherary. He’s standing with no room to move, hair still sweaty and tangled from their race across rooftops and through the tunnel. If he’s in any kind of pain it doesn’t show on his face which is set in a stonelike glare on Ross. Steve’s heart slows with relief, even though their blue eyes don’t meet. Bucky is unbroken and they won’t be able to break him anytime soon.

 

“Captain Rogers.” Ross acknowledges and Steve is prodded forward. “I wish I could say I was surprised by this behaviour, but sadly I’m not. There are those of us who have wondered since DC where Captain America’s true loyalties lie. I’m more surprised that’s taken this long.”

 

Steve wrenches his gaze from Bucky’s to glare at the man like he has wanted too ever since he first walked into The Avengers Facility. “Funny, I thought the government was supposed to protect its citizens.”

 

“You broke in here, Captain. Shackles are a normal punishment. Then again you seem to see yourself above the law.”

 

Steve lets the comment slide for now. All he has to do is keep the great Thunderbolt Ross talking and that will be easy enough without arguing about the Accords. “I’ll give you, me and my accomplices broke in, but I don’t think he’s done anything yet.”

 

Steve jerks his head in Bucky direction, making it absolutely clear what he’s here for. Bucky gaze drifts briefly toward Steve, his expression unreadable, before resting once again on Ross.

 

“I have a list of things this man done.” Ross’ flippant attitude has fire once again igniting Steve’s gut that he has to struggle to dim. Much as he might like it this was hardly the time to teach Ross a lesson. “We can’t even prove he is who you say he is.”

 

“That never stopped you with Bruce.” Thinking of the quiet scientist has Steve momentarily hoping that wherever he is, he’s happy away from this mess. “You still chased him across the globe. What about everyone else you have locked up here? I’d be willing to bet that a good portion of them are American Citizens too, and the ones that aren't are an international incident waiting to happen.”

 

“Don’t lecture me, Captain. I’m not the one who was caught trying to help a wanted mass murder escape. You should be in a cell next to him.” 

 

“Go ahead and put me there.” Steve doesn’t mean to sound smug, or somehow self-righteous, but he’s so far past the point of caring what they think about him. Strangely, for the first time in a long time, he finally feels like he’s doing the right thing. “You couldn’t hold me for long. Even in the current political landscape you’d be hard pressed to find a reason to arrest Captain America with the public in turn wanting your head on a spike. And another other thing, I’m not leaving him. I did that once before and it's not happening again.”

 

The bold statement draws the first flicker of light to Bucky’s lifeless eyes. Steve cheers internally and strains his hands against the cuffs. So far there’s no budging. 

 

Ross drones on for a couple minutes and Steve completely shuts him out. Instead he’s trying to get Bucky’s attention. Since they walked into the room, Bucky has been glaring at Ross, which makes Steve wonders what was going on in here before their arrival. So far, Bucky hasn’t dropped his gaze and that worries Steve. For one, he wants to know if he’s forgiven for getting Bucky in this mess to begin with. For any other, he needs to know Bucky is still Bucky. Steve isn’t stupid. He knows there are times when the Winter Soldier is far closer to the surface than Bucky Barnes is. He also knows that Bucky is growing stronger by the day. 

 

Or he was, until this fiasco.

 

Steve is seriously beginning to regret ever finding Bucky and putting him back on everyone else's radar.

 

In the midst there’s a sudden loosening around his wrists. He has just enough time to grab the metal with his fingertips and keep it around his wrists before they can clatter to the floor. Steve smirks triumphantly and starts counting. 

 

“I am sorry it had to come to this, Mr. Wilson.” Ross intones in a dry, utterly unrepentant voice. “I had hoped that you would come to see sense.”

 

“Trust me, even if I wasn’t following him, I would still be here. You don’t get to lock people up for being who they are and that man you have in a cage is not your scapegoat.” Sam’s voice is calm and steady. Once again Steve is reminded how much he owes Sam. 

 

“You’ve fought the Winter Soldier before. I’m surprised to hear you say that.”

 

“That man isn’t the Winter Soldier.” Another brief look of surprise on Bucky’s face. “He’s a POW, twice over in fact, considering the way you’re holding him, and see, it was kinda my job to rescue POW’s.”

 

“Hey, Ross.” Steve interrupts, taking all the secretary’s attention. “I’m really not sorry about this.”

 

Before Ross can ask what for there’s a shimmer in the air, a red and silver shape forming from thin air. Ross doesn’t have the time to be shocked before he’s taking an ant powered fist to the face. Ross crumples like a piece of paper. In the same instant, Wanda is pulling her hands free of her cuffs and projecting a protective barrier between them and the soldiers and other officers.

 

“I just punched the secretary of state.” Scott gasps, just a little shocked. “Fuck, I’m going back to jail.”

 

“News flash,” Sam grumbles as he pulls his own hands free. “You already were. Steve, shield, ten o’clock.”

 

“I got it.” Steve takes in the other startled people in the room and knows they have only minutes to act before they’re in too deep. He takes a deep breath, blocking everything else out, and says, “Wanda, now.”

 

In the same second that Wanda turns her defence to offence with a vicious grin, Scott shrinks just to reappear twelve feet to left with another right hook. Steve, with Sam right on his heels, rushes the soldier who is unfortunate enough to have been tasked with carrying Captain America’s confiscated shield. He’s young and being rushed by two superheros is enough to scare the shit out of him. He’s throws the Shield down and holds up his hands before Steve and Sam are even close. Steve grabs what’s his and leaves the kid for Sam as he turns back around. 

 

Wanda and Scott have successfully cleared the path between Steve and Bucky. Steve’s heart gives a hard lurch when he notices that Bucky has begun trying to pull at the clamps locking his arms in place. From the twisted grimace on his face it hurts like shit. Steve pounds one fist against the unbreakable glass, enough to startle Bucky out of his attention and meet Steve gaze for the first time. Steve tries very hard not to think about what might have Bucky so scared. 

 

“Hold still.” Steve shouts, uncertain if Bucky can hear inside the cell. Bucky nods, locking his muscles into place. Finding what seems to be a seam facing away from Bucky’s face Steve pulls back his arm and drives the shield forward with as much force as his muscles can make. With a clang that echoes around the room, the shield leaves a gouge in the cell. It takes a few more solid hits before Steve can finally pull back the metal and glass to get to Bucky. 

 

Even with chaos erupting around him, Steve can’t help a sigh of relief at finally being able to touch Bucky again, even if it's just to figure out how to free his hands and arms. 

 

“You came for me?” Bucky’s voice is too rough, and Steve wonders if he’s been screaming. 

 

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” Steve tries to shoot him a reassuring grin, but he’s certain the adrenaline ruins it. His fingers are still digging around the mechanics, too afraid to use the shield in case he hurts Bucky in the process. His hand wraps around what feels like a locking mechanism and squeezes until something cracks. The bar holding Bucky’s arm down pops up suddenly and releases him. Bucky pulls out, something like relief fluttering across his face before he locks down the expression again. 

 

“You alright?” The words tumble out of Steve’s mouth in a rush as he steps back and watches Bucky walk out of the cage. He doesn’t appear hurt, but Steve is worried they might have done something to shut down the metal arm. Bucky doesn’t appear bothered by it.

 

Steve gets one short nod in response and then Bucky is in full tactical mode. “You got in here. You gotta plan to get out of here, Rogers? Or am I pulling your ass outa the fire again?” 

 

Bucky leans down to snatch a fallen rifle and spares a moment to toss a grin at Steve. For a moment, the humble captain can’t breathe and then he remembers they still have to make their escape. “I got this one. Ant Man, let’s go.”

 

“You got it, Cap.” Scott disappears again in the blink of an eye. At the same time Sam and Wanda move in to back up Steve and Bucky. 

 

Almost exactly two minutes later the door whooshes open and they’re back in the middle of a fight. Steve and Wanda play defence while Bucky and Sam clear a path down the hallway. Going down another level at least seems to surprise their pursuers. Best of all, since the bottom seems to be more of a storage level there’s no one to stop them. Bucky twistes the trap door shut and gets it stuck enough that they’ll have some time. 

 

There’s a moment for a breather, and then they’re off again following Scott's instructions from earlier. 

 

“You sure you got a plan here, Steve?” Bucky asks, suspicious eyes raking over the metal plating. “Seems to me we’re kinda stuck.”

 

“I got one. You’re not gonna like it.” 

 

At the end of an inconspicuous hallway he finds what he’s looking for. A nondescript hatch with a big, red caution label. He and Sam work on getting the hatch up to reveal a deep, inky wetness. 

 

“Yeah, ‘bout what I expect from you, Stevie.”

 

“Sam, you and Wanda go first. Go as far downstream as you can before going ashore. You remember how to get to the safe house?”

 

“We’ll be fine, Captain.” Wanda offers, sliding her feet into the hatch and the murky Hudson. The next instant she’s gone, disappearing into the dark.

 

Sam takes her place and Steve reaches out to grab Sam’s arm. “Thank you, Sam.”

 

“Don’t mention it.” Sam waves his off like it doesn’t mean anything. Steve knows better. It means everything. “You take care of him, Bucky.”

 

Bucky’s eyes widen again in shock, as if he’s surprised that he’s being addressed. He nods once back and then Sam is gone as well. 

 

At the same moment there’s a clatter as the trapdoor back up gives away. 

 

“Now or never pal.” Bucky’s tense gives away something that Steve doesn’t understand. He’d always say it was fear. 

 

Then they’re both sliding in the cold, wet, and dark, swimming for freedom.


	4. Escape

**Escape**

  
  


Only in a city like New York would two, soaking wet men not draw more than eye. Indeed, the awkward shape of the shield was getting more attention than their wet foot prints. 

 

Steve pulls Bucky down an alley, into the deepest part of the shadows. With a quick flick of his wrist, he pulls a tattered tarp away to reveal two Harley’s in pristine condition. 

 

There’s a soft sound as Bucky snickers, breaking the harsh quiet that has existed between them since they left the river. “In this town, you’re lucky those weren’t stolen. 

 

“I’m not completely worthless.” Steve replies to the teasing while pulling towels and dry cloths from the saddle bags. 

 

Bucky doesn’t shoot back, just takes the offered things in silence. Steve can still feel his gaze on him as he pulls his shirt from his skin. He can’t suppress a shiver, though he can’t tell if because of the wet or because of the intense, uncertain feeling that crackles between them. 

 

Steve should say something, anything, if he could find the words. He wants to ask if Bucky is okay, but he knows that answer and he doesn’t want to hear it. 

 

What he really wants is to reach out, touch, and hold, but he doesn’t dare. He’s not certain if it's for his sake or Bucky’s. 

 

Bucky roughly shoves a towel through his tangled hair and then shrugs out of his jacket and wet t-shirt. His pale skin seems to glow softly in the nearly nonexistent light. It makes the ragged mess of scars where metal meets skin stand out harshly. It's the first time Steve has seen the angry, red ribbons in person. The pictures didn’t do them justice. It looked like someone had tried to weld skin and metal together. Steve grits his teeth, bottling up the anger, regret, and guilt. 

 

He’d tries to hide his staring, but he must not have done a good job. Bucky pulls a fresh shirt on harshly. “I know you're mother taught you not to stare.”

 

“I’m sorry.”  _ For staring. For making you feel uncomfortable. For not catching you when you fell. For letting all this happen. I’m just so, so sorry.  _

 

Although he doesn’t say any of it, Bucky must read it in his face. His gaze softens and there’s a shadow of a smile of on his face. “It's alright. I’m sure it's quite a sight.”

 

It is, but once again Steve doesn't say that. He should. There’s so much he should say, but this is the hard part. Fighting on the front line, pulling Tony’s strings to get the information he needed, breaking Bucky out of a maximum security prison, that was all easy. You just got up and did it. This, knowing he needs to say something, knowing that they have so many barriers between them and a twisted past to sort out, that's what he doesn’t know how to do. Even if it's just as simple as reassuring Bucky that they’re going to be okay, he doesn’t know how to do it. 

 

He just wishes that he knew how to navigate this strange thing between them. 

 

“Hey.” The soft sound of Bucky’s voice is enough to startle him out of his thoughts. He has no idea how long he has remained motionless and trapped in his own mind, but the deep worry in Bucky’s eyes tells him it's been too long. “Stevie, look at me.”

 

Steve tries, but it's like his mind has become hazy. He feels likes he’s moving through molasses, stuck permanently in one spot. Bucky must realize and walks forward to slowly cup his real hand around Steve’s jaw. There’s a jolt at the unfamiliar, yet recognized touch. Steve has to fight the urge  to curl into him, He wants to throw his arm around Bucky and greedily steal an embrace. He knows better, he knows Bucky is probably not ready for that, but the feeling of his rough, callused hand on his skin is enough to drag him back down to earth. He mets a pair of stunning sea blue eye and watches relief flood through them.

 

“Hey, there?” Bucky says with a loose grin, like the last time he did this was yesterday and not decades ago. “You still know how to stop breathing on me.”

 

It startles something like a laugh out of Steve, the sound to suddenly released from his throat to be good. He shakes his head and forbids his fingers from clinging too tightly. “I missed you.”

 

“Yeah, thanks for coming to get me.”

 

“Told you I would.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” There’s an unspoken decision to go no further down that path. Maybe later. Not now. “We’re not out of the woods though yet. I need you to focus and tell me the plan. We can’t stay out in the open like this.”

 

Steve nods and finds it easier to focus and pay attention to what’s important in the moment. “Clint has a safe house upstate. We’re going to meet there and figure out our next move.”

 

“Good, then we need to get moving. You alright?”

 

“I’m fine.” Steve tries not to whimper when their skin breaks contact. He takes a few deep breaths, resettling himself while Bucky straddles his bike. Steve is about to do the same, when he remembers one more thing of import. He pulls open one of his saddle bag and hands over the heavy grey bag. “I brought you this.”

 

Bucky’s eyes widen in shock as he gingerly takes the strap. He’s stunned into silence for a moment as his finger reverently slides over the fabric. Not for the first time Steve wonders what's inside that’s so important. He’s a little alarmed when Bucky’s eyes are wet when he looks up again. “You saved it?”

 

Steve shrugs. “It seemed important to you.”

 

“That wouldn’t have been enough for most people.”

 

“I’m not most people.” There’s pride and a shared history between their smiles. Steve would tell him that he doesn’t have to share anything doesn’t want to, but it's understood. It's a relief in a way. They don’t say anything as they both climb onto their bikes and blend into the sea of people. 


	5. Safehouses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! I just wanted to say thank you reading and the comments and the kudos. I'm so glad everyone has enjoyed this silly little story of mine. Much love to Angelycdevil for the constant handholding and MyHerion for fixing all my mistakes. 
> 
> I update my works every friday so if you want in on those be sure come back then!

**Safehouses**

  
  


The safehouse is not a safe house. It's a house tucked away in a nearly forgotten neighborhood in upstate New York. Steve can’t help be be weary of the white picket fence and two car garage. 

 

“And you’re certain that Natasha doesn’t know about this?” Steve asks Clint as he opens the door. The inside is again nothing like any safehouse that he’s ever been in. Sam, Wanda, and Scott seem appreciative, but he can’t help but notice that Bucky is hanging toward the back, careful not to touch anything and holding himself tightly wound.

 

“Contrary to popular opinion I don’t tell Natasha everything.” Clint smirks and waves toward the back of the house. “Kitchens through there. There’s a couple bedrooms upstairs and one down here. The couch isn’t bad. I’ve slept there before.”

 

“Did you get sent to the doghouse, Clint?” Wanda teases.

 

“I slept on the couch of my own free will, thank you very much. There was a Dog Cops marathon on.”

 

Steve tunes Clint out and inconspicuously heads for the stairs. He’s thankful, more than thankful, for everything they’ve done for him, it's never easy to stand up to your friends after all, but Steve needs space. He’s running on empty, he’s got nothing left to give, he can’t remember the last time he slept, and he just needs to be alone. No one questions him as he slips away and Steve isn’t sure how he got away with that, but he doesn’t question it. He opens the first door he finds upstairs and after being sure its not a closet or a bathroom, he shuts it behind him. 

 

The bed is big and inviting but Steve can’t bring himself to take comfort from it. It doesn’t feel right somehow. He gingerly sits on the edge, muscles sore in a way they haven’t been in a long time. Everything about him, in fact, hurts. His body is bruised, he can’t take a deep breath, and he’s exhausted. It’s like his eyes are filled with grit and lungs with salt. His joints creak when he moves. He feels like his age, like a ancient man who has seen too much and sacrificed too much and given up too much and fucked the whole thing up too much. He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes until he can only see color bursting in his vision. 

 

“Ya gotta learn to breathe, pal.” The voice is thick, deep, and holds a hint of old Brooklyn. Steve smiles but doesn’t lift his head. He breathes in shakily and deflates in the process. There’s slow steps toward him and the bed dips. “I’m serious, Steve. You gotta breathe. Can you?”

 

Steve mashes his lips together, afraid of what would come out and shakes his head. His body is screaming for oxygen but he’s too tight, too tense to give it to him. 

 

“Come on.” Warm fingers wrap around his wrist pulling a hand away to end up pressed against the soft material of a shirt. “I think I remember this. Deep breaths, okay?”

 

It takes a couple of tries, but the rhythm takes over. His hand rises and falls as Bucky breathes, and Steve follows. It's not an asthma attack, not like he used to get, but he stifles a sob anyway, because Bucky remembers. No one else left alive would remember little Steve Rogers who couldn’t breathe right. Only Bucky would remember having to help him breath when his lungs wouldn’t. 

 

That one final thought shakes loss the sob that he’s been holding in. He’s been trying to keep from falling apart, but he’s got nothing now. The most he gets out is something that might have once been Bucky’s name, before he’s crying and whimpering, unable to hold himself together. 

 

It’s been a long time since he let himself fall apart. 

 

One minute he’s alone, lost and drowning, and the next, he’s held tightly against something broad and warm. He feels small again. He feels weak and a little bit pathetic and doesn’t know up from down. He’s falling apart, but he’s not. Bucky is warm, solid, and his arms are so tight. Steve curls closer and feels bad about it. Bucky’s been through hell and he shouldn't have to still hold Steve up. He did that enough of that before the war. He tries to stop and put himself together. Get his mask back on right, and pretend he’s okay.

 

Bucky always saw past that bullshit. He never cared what Steve presented to the world, just who Steve was on the inside. If Steve needed to fall apart, then Bucky was going to let him fall apart. He was just going to be there to pick up the pieces. “Stevie, it's okay,” Bucky whispers, rocking him in his arms and rubbing his back like he used to when Steve had coughing fits. “It’s just us. Let it out.”

 

The words sound rusty and illused on his tongue, but Steve doesn’t care. Bucky smells like sweat and gunpowder, but underneath it there’s a hint of the scent that had always clung to his skin, that had meant home. It takes a while to leave the safety of Bucky’s arms, to remember how to move on his own and be brave enough to leave Bucky's side. He wipes at his eyes, holding in a hiccup, and gives Bucky a less than half hearted smirk. “Sorry.”

 

Bucky rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You ain’t changed in seventy years, Steve. How many times I gotta tell you don’t have to apologize for this?”

 

“Just keep saying it.” Without thinking, Steve pushes hair off his forehead and snags his sleeve against a cut on his forehead. He whinces as it starts bleeding again. “Shit.”

 

“Sit still.” Bucky is off the bed in one smooth motion and disappears into the bathroom before Steve can say a thing. He comes back a few moments later with a first aid kit. He pops the thing open on the bed and grabs an alcohol swab with a wiry smile. “I think I remember this part.”

 

“You don’t have to.” Steve says as Bucky pushes back bangs to study the cut that he can’t remember how he’d gotten. Bucky’s fingers are too gentle as they clean Steve’s skin. Steve shivers as each brush ignites a new round of sweet pleasure racing down his spine. “I can…”

 

“...take care of myself,” Bucky finishes for him. “I remember that one too.”

 

Steve chuckles dryly and leans into Bucky. He wants to touch him, an arm around his waist or, well no one wore suspenders any more. That used to be one of Steve’s favorite handholds on Bucky. “I should be taking care of you.”

 

Bucky grunts. “I can…”

 

“...take care of myself?”

 

Bucky stares flatly at Steve before gently tapping the back of his head. “Don’t be a jerk punk. I’m back, so you’re not going to get away with any of that “I don’t need help” nonsense.”

 

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

 

“I don’t care.” Bucky growls, but his hands are still gentle and sweet as they clean Steve’s cuts and bruises.  “You have four people down there who want to help you. Let them.”

 

Steve flushes and ducks his eyes to avoid Bucky’s all seeing gaze. Shame colors his face and his voice as he whispers, “There should be more of them, if I hadn’t just abandoned them.”

 

Bucky shrugs, ducking away from Steve and pretending to put away the things in the kit. With his eyes down and hair hanging in his face, Steve can’t help but think he’s beautiful. It’s not the first time Steve has thought it, it’s not the last time, and he can’t imagine there's a world where he won’t go to his grave thinking it. There’s a sharp, painful bout of disbelief and fear that invades his stomach. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time that he thought Bucky was standing next to him only to realize that he was just a figment of his imagination. 

 

Slowly, with fear driven and trembling fingers, Steve reaches and carefully, draws his fingertips down the line of Bucky’s cheeks. His skin is rough and prickly from where he hasn’t shaved in days. Something the Bucky of old would never have allowed, but something the Steve of now is coming to love for its ruggedness. 

 

At Steve’s gentle touch Bucky’s eyes flutter closed, his breath coming slow and shallow. His soft, pouty lips part in a gasp as he turns into Steve’s fingers until he’s cupping his whole cheek. 

 

“You’re real,” Steve whispers, awe feeling his voice, completely enraptured with this man standing before him. This completely impossible, bruised and battered, beautiful inside and out man. There’s a knot building and twisting in Steve’s stomach. An aching,  yearning need that he’s dealt with since he lost Bucky. It's such a part of him that he has no idea who he is without it, but he’s willing to find out if he could just have a taste of whiskey from that mouth. 

 

For a single drawn out heartbeat, Steve is prepared to pull away, afraid that he’s pushing Bucky to far already. He doesn’t want to startle him. He doesn’t want to scare him away. He really doesn’t think he could survive that one. At the same time, he needs to know Bucky is real and feels solid and warm underneath his hands. 

 

Bucky’s eyes open again, just for a moment, just to ascertain the distance between them and then he’s falling forward, into Steve space, and his lips land on Steve’s. It’s overwhelming, and Steve freezes for just a second before he throws himself into it, twisting his hands into Bucky’s long hair and pushing himself into Bucky’s arms. In this position, he’s much taller than Steve and Steve loves it. He’s safe and comforted in Bucky’s arms and there is nothing else in the world that he cares about. 

 

Their kiss is hard and brutal, fingers leaving what will be bruises on their skin. Bucky pushes Steve back into the bed and crawls on top. They’re pressed together tightly as they gasp and moan. Bucky’s tongue is rough against Steve’s — greedy and desperate. It crosses Steve’s mind that that maybe Bucky needs to be sure Steve is as real as Steve needs it. 

 

Their kiss breaks with a gasp, Steve sucking air into his burning lungs as Bucky drags lips, tongue, and teeth down Steve’s chin. Steve throws his head back as Bucky bites into Steve’s neck. The harsh sting of pain fades into a low burning pleasure. Steve moans hooking a leg over Bucky’s hip and grinding against him. 

 

Bucky gasps, eyes rolling back in his head. Things after that are a bit of a blur. It’s been too long since anything like this has happened. It’s been too long since the war and a cold water flat. So their hands aren’t gentle and sweet, they’re hard and demanding. They bruise each other, leaving marks on skin that will fade far faster than they should. Every kiss is tinged with desperation and sorrow. 

 

Steve sighs as Bucky stretches him until he’s more than full. With Bucky inside him, chasing away the cold, he can forget everything that he has on his plate. There's only Bucky and the sound of their pleasure bouncing off the walls, and the sharp bursts of pleasure when Bucky’s thrusts into him. There’s the just the smell of him, the squeaking of the bed, and sweet sound of his moans. It’s everything and nothing and the only thing that exists. 

 

Just him and Bucky and his hands in his hair and his voice rough and deep and spent. 

 

The world erupts into color, there’s nothing that matters anymore. 

 

The world comes back in pieces, warmth, and sweetness, heavy welcoming weight, puffs of breath against his neck, a hard hand draped across his chest, hair tickling his nose. That makes him laugh softly as he lazily pushes brown hair out of his face and turns his head. Bucky’s eyes are still closed, but he’s nuzzling into Steve’s neck with beginnings of a smile on his face. Bucky is a piece of art that Steve could never hope to copy. 

 

Steve’s eyes are suddenly warm and wet as he rolls, pushing himself closer to the warm body. His fingers trace over Bucky’s sharp cheekbones reverently. Steve’s voice is wrecked when he finally finds the only words that seem to matter. “You’re real.”

 

“Last time I looked.” Bucky says, voice soft and warm. It soothes some place inside Steve that he didn’t know was broken. “You gonna be okay, Stevie?”

 

Steve nods, exhaustion already pulling away at his mind and body. The sweet blackness of oblivion pulling him in. There’s a gentle scrape against his scalp as Bucky's fingers move through his hair. It’s the last thing Steve is really aware of before the world slips away into darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

Awareness comes back to him without any jumping or screaming. Steve isn’t sure who he should thank for a night without nightmares, but if knew he would get on his knees and grovel for more. He can’t remember the last time he was exhausted enough to sleep through the night. 

 

He’s even tired enough to go back to sleep, or at least doze. There’s not much light in the room yet and everything is warm and hazy. Something nudges the back of his brain, telling him he should be remembering something, but then he stretches his muscles and relaxes again into the softness of the bed. 

 

It can’t have been too much later that he’s cracking his eyes open again to take in the room. In must still be early in the morning because the only light is coming from a bedside lamp. In its golden yellow glow Bucky is sitting up against the headboard, some kind of small, ratty notebook propped up on his knees. His pink tongue is between his teeth, grey eyes intent on his pen moving across the page. Steve indulges in a small, happy smile. He thinks he might still be a little drunk on the afterglow, but he can’t really bring himself to care. After all, Bucky is in bed with him for the first time in decades. That’s not something he’s going to waste.

 

Moving only enough to throw his arms around Bucky’s waist, Steve holds on like Bucky is his own giant size teddy bear. His smile grows the slightest bit dopey, remembering all the times that Bucky has accused him of being clingy. Then Steve would have argued. These days he might just be proud of it.

 

“You trying to distract me, punk?” 

 

Steve smiles, swishing his nose farther into Bucky’s side until the only thing he can smell and feel is Bucky. “If I was trying to distract you, you’d know it.”

 

Bucky’s lips are just starting to curl around the edges. If it didn’t take some work, Steve would be pulling him down to have a taste. He hadn’t been lying however. He wasn’t trying to distract. Instead, his responsibilities where hovering around the edges of his conscious and he just wanted to bask in the safety of Bucky being right there for a moment longer. “I don’t even know what you’re doing,” he finally mutters.

 

Bucky’s quiet again, and Steve thinks he might not answer, which is fine with Steve. He really doesn’t want more. 

 

“I’m writing it all down.” Bucky’s voice is equal parts confidence and uncertainty. It piques Steve’s interest in the least. He doesn’t want Bucky to feel like he has to open up to him, but he can’t deny that he wants it either. He’s missed just getting to talk to Bucky. 

 

“You’re writing what down?” he asks, letting his eyes stay open this time and his fingers trace absentminded shapes into Bucky’s skin. It used to be easy to tickle Bucky, but his resistance seems to have grown. Steve supposes that makes sense and forces down the wave of sadness to be dealt with on a later date.

 

Bucky doesn’t answer, is quiet again, his gaze somewhere far off. Not enough has changed that Steve still can’t see Bucky debating a choice. It's a relief that there are still parts of Bucky that he knows instinctively. 

 

When Bucky makes his decision, he moves quickly, closing the book and putting it away, moving farther down the bed so that he and Steve are lying side by side. All but sharing the same pillow. Steve, denied his glut of contact, grabs Bucky’s hand, twists their fingers together between them. Between that and Bucky’s eyes trained so relentlessly on his face, it's okay for the moment. 

 

“When I first started remembering things.” Bucky begins slowly, choosing every word with care. “They weren’t all good. It was a lot of Hydra and pain and killing. Those came first, but they didn’t always stay. Everything was really patchy and it all came and went. I thought for a while that I was loosing my mind. Then one day I remembered you. I remembered you’re smile and the way you ragged me in the summer of 1940 for blowing my savings to take us to Coney Island for the day.”

 

“You were saving up for a record player. You’d always wanted one and you’d been saving for months.” Steve smiles as Bucky nods and he takes that as encouragement to keep going. “Then I got really sick, again, and I somehow managed to pull through and to celebrate you blew your savings. I was so fucking pissed at you.”

 

“It was a good day, though?”

 

“The best. It was the  fucking best. You had enough money that we didn’t have to choose between the train and food. It was the closest we ever came to being rich.”

 

“It was the first thing I didn’t want to forget.” Bucky admits in a whisper, like it's a dirty secret. “It was good and pure and it just felt so amazing and I didn’t want to forget it. So I wrote it down. Then when the next one came, I wrote it too and before I knew it I was writing everything down even when they started to stick. I couldn’t bare forgetting again, even the bad stuff. They were all I had left.”

 

“Bucky.” It's only word Steve can force through his lips. It hurts to think of Bucky like that, lost, alone, probably confused. It's eaten away at him for two years, twisting him into knots and all along he hadn’t been able to do anything about it. “Why didn’t you come find me? Or let me find you? I looked.”

 

“I know you did, pal. You got close a couple times, too.” Bucky smiles, pride pulling his lips up. “I wasn’t ready though. I’m still not sure i’m sure I’m ready, but it’s a little out of my control now.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.” Bucky leans over, steals another kiss that rips Steve away. In a little while they’ll have to go face the music, but for the moment they were safe and warm and nothing could touch them. That was worth holding on too a little tighter.


End file.
